transition.

Yesterday I bought groceries.  Real, I-have-a-kitchen-and-a-life-of-my-own groceries.

Over the last 16 months, I became accustomed to either eating whatever is already prepared or scrounging through leftovers in a commercial kitchen that feeds 70+ people every meal or getting take-out.  It gets tiring.

A lunch of fresh peppers and carrots with spinach and artichoke hummus, with a side of blueberries?  It tasted like freedom.  Cheesy, I know, but somehow our experiences are tied to the tastes by which they are accompanied.  This season will be one of raw foods and iced coffee, and I am excited to explore it.

Transitions are complicated, aren't they?  There is a strange mix of sadness, grieving even, over what was left behind, and an excitement for what is to come.

I start my new job this Friday.  On the 20th, I can move into my new place - it's a garden studio with an open floorplan.  It has a back deck and a yard, an artist's touch, and the feel of an island home.  Then I can settle into a life here that is quiet.  For it is in quietness that we hear the Lord's voice, is it not?